Page 32 of Wicked Dove (Institute Thirteen #1)

TWENTY-FIVE

ELODIE

Kael saunters off with Professor Morton as if I don’t exist, like he wasn’t just all up in my space, stealing every ounce of air I have. Frustration brews in my chest, driving me insane. I don’t want to feel it. I don’t want to feel anything when it comes to him or his friends.

I just want to go home.

Hopelessness clings to me all the way back to Institute Thirteen, draping over me like it’s part of my uniform, and there’s no way of escaping it.

I hate that if Walker were here, he would know what to do.

I hate that I know that, but more so, I hate that it’s opening my eyes to the fact that I’ve come to rely on him too much.

Being here has been good for helping me see that.

I need to be able to stand on my own two feet, but it’s getting to be too much now.

I just need to leave, I need to be able to breathe so I can think clearly, and that’s never going to happen with Thorne, Rion, and Kael around.

I manage to not run into Rion or Thorne as I head inside Thirteen and rush up the stairs, letting the door slam shut behind me as I use it to prop myself up against. Ocean sits cross-legged on her bed, eyeing me with a glint of amusement amongst the curiosity as I peel the gloves from my hands.

I heave a sigh of relief once they’re off, tossing them toward my bed as I shake my fingers out.

“Are you making another run for it?” she asks, touching up her nail polish, and I realize she has a few beauty products scattered across the bed around her.

“Not today,” I breathe, silently berating myself for not making another escape attempt before coming back here. I think I was so caught up in Kael that I just beelined to safety. I could make a run for it now, but I just said I wasn’t, so I find myself compelled to stay, staying true to my word.

“What did the professor have to say?” she asks as I shove off the door and trudge toward my bed. I flop down on it dramatically, but I secretly love the way it bounces in response. My foldaway bed back home would never.

Maybe there are a few perks to being here.

Stopping my train of thought, I circle back to her question and sigh. “That I am a bad influence on Rion,” I state, and she scoffs.

“That’s bullshit,” she insists, and I hum.

“I know.”

“I’m surprised he isn’t attached to your hip,” she adds, and I clear my throat, looking up at the ceiling to avoid her gaze.

“I couldn’t find him,” I admit, her eyes raking over me immediately as she lets out a little gasp.

“You went looking?”

That’s the thing; I did. Instead of running away, I was too preoccupied trying to find the madman. A decision I’m trying to regret, but I can’t seem to bring myself to. “It felt like the right thing to do,” I breathe, wiping a hand down my face.

“And the others?” she pushes, and I shrug.

“The Sanctum summoned Kael, and I haven’t seen Thorne.”

That should be a good thing, but why doesn’t it feel like that?

Uh, I hate myself.

It’s as if I’m hellbent on causing myself more chaos and disaster every time I wake up each morning. That’s some toxic shit right there. Familiar song lyrics play in my mind, reminding me that I’m the problem. I’ve never related to anything more.

“That doesn’t mean he hasn’t seen you,” Ocean states, drawing my gaze to hers, and I frown, but she winks as I connect the dots together.

Rolling my eyes, I turn onto my side to face her, watching as she puts her nail polishes away, only to pull out an array of makeup products and a compact mirror.

“Are you going somewhere?” I ask, curiosity getting the better of me. It’s only then that I realize she’s not wearing her uniform. “Wait, what time is it?” I blurt, thinking out loud.

“A little after six.”

“How long was I gone for?”

She shrugs. “All day, I guess.”

Professor Drayker’s class was right after breakfast, and it’s already past six in the evening? I really did spend a long time looking for Rion.

Damn.

Refocusing my attention on her outfit, I spy a pink spaghetti-strap cropped tank and a pair of jean shorts. “You look cute,” I murmur, bringing the conversation back to her, and she smiles at me.

“Thanks. You’re going to look cute in a minute, too,” she states, and my eyebrows pinch in confusion.

“And why’s that?” I ask, already not wanting the answer, and she rises from her bed with a wide grin spread across her face.

“Because it’s not me going somewhere, it’s us going somewhere,” she explains, and my eyes widen in surprise.

“We are?” I gulp with uncertainty as she plants a hand on her hip and gives me a pointed look.

“It’s Friday.”

“It is?” I gawk, trying to take a mental tally of the days that I’ve been here, but she doesn’t give me the chance.

“The weekend is upon us, Elodie, and I think after the week we’ve had, we should let our hair down.” She’s talking slowly, as if I need time to let the words settle in, but after today, I’m even more intrigued than usual.

If I were back home right now, Walker would be picking me up around nine, and we would find ourselves all caught up in one house party after another.

None of them would have the energy I would be searching for, every guy too sleazy and every girl too bitchy.

Regardless, I would go to spend time with my friend, my lifeline, but here, when it’s just me and Ocean, it feels different.

“What does that look like here?”

“The Hut,” she explains, tossing her blonde, wavy hair over her shoulder.

“The Hut?” I repeat, and she nods.

“It’s in The Vale. The hot place to be when the sun goes down,” she says, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively at me, and I gulp.

“Among supernaturals, I’m not sure that’s a place I want to be,” I murmur, and she scoffs.

“You’re forgetting you are supernatural too.”

That’s true, a fact I’m still not ready to come to terms with, but even more than that, I feel weak in comparison to everyone else. My magic is unpredictable; there’s no stability that offers me a hint of confidence around the others.

Maybe it’s not a good idea.

“I don’t have anything to wear,” I admit, tossing the first excuse at her, but her smile grows wider. Spinning to face her bed, she grabs a small pile of clothes from the end before turning back to me and tossing them in my direction.

“Next,” she sings, pleased with herself as I gape down at the clothes in my lap.

“Ocean, these have tags on them. I don’t have any money. I can’t afford this,” I rush, and she waves me off.

“Consider them a gift,” she insists, reaching for something else at the foot of her bed, only to appear with a pair of strappy sandals.

“Ocean, I can’t, I—”

“Give me one good reason,” she interjects, and I gulp.

“Where I’m from, gifts are never just gifts. They always come with a cost. Always.” I feel like I’m choking on my words, but I don’t miss the hint of sadness that creeps into her gaze.

She rushes to my side, taking the seat beside me on my bed.

“Okay, how about you let me treat us tonight, and you agree to stay and be my friend, just for the next week. After that, you can carry on trying to run. I just… I like having you here,” she admits, and my chest tightens, and for the first time in my life, it’s not with panic, fear, or distress.

No. It’s something much gentler than that.

I suck in a breath and let my heart take over as I offer her my hand. “Deal.”

“Here’s a cup of peer pressure,” Ocean sings, placing a shot glass filled with a clear liquid in my hand.

“I feel peer pressured enough,” I grumble over the music, and she cackles, shimmying away without a care as I glance down at my outfit.

Never in a million years did I think I would ever be wearing a denim skirt and a matching spaghetti cropped tank with Ocean.

Well, almost matching, mine is the same shade of purple as my hair.

Despite the amount of skin I have on display, the temperature makes me thankful.

The Hut is heaving with people all here for a good time, and even though I’ve only been here ten minutes, perspiration clings to me like a second skin.

I’m tempted to peek at the little compact mirror Ocean gave me, just to look in awe at my makeup that she did, but I refrain, already feeling vain enough as it is.

My hair is loosely pulled back in a wavy ponytail with a few tendrils hanging to either side of my face, and the soft sun-kissed makeup only accentuates my features.

My cheekbones look cute instead of gaunt like they have in the past, and my lips are round and full.

The slight dusting of shadow she placed around my eyes makes my blue irises pop.

It feels weird, but strangely nice.

“Get out of that head of yours and get into this drink,” Ocean says, nudging my arm in encouragement, and I roll my eyes, lifting my glass to hers before downing the liquid in one.

It’s warm down my throat, but before it burns, it melts into a sweet honey that has me eager for more.

“Good, right?” she says with a grin, and I nod, placing my empty glass on the high-top table we’re standing at.

It was the only spot left when we got here, which surprised me. It’s almost eleven and I thought we were too early, but it seems we were right on time. Despite the lack of seats, it offers a great vantage point of the room since we’re slightly elevated off to the side.

The music vibrates through my sandals, making me smile as I take in the space.

The walls are clad with planks of wood and the bar to my left is decorated like a beach hut, with the bartenders offering out flower necklaces to anyone and everyone.

We’re on the far side of the room from the entryway, so we can watch everyone coming and going between us.

The dance floor is a sea of bodies and I can feel the heat from here.

The DJ is off to the right, the bathrooms down beside him, while the open archway to my left leads to what looks like a calmer vibe with pool tables and cushioned seating.